VICIOUS PERSONS INFATUATED BY HEAVEN.

Good, my lord,—

But when we in our viciousness grow hard,

(O misery on't?) the wise gods seal* our eyes;
In our own filth drop our clear judgments; make us
Adore our errors; laugh at us, while we strut
To our confusion.

FURY EXPELS FEAR.

Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be furious, Is, to be frighted out of fear; and in that mood, The dove will peck the estridge†; and I see still A diminution in our captain's brain

Restores his heart: When valour preys on reason, It eats the sword it fights with.

ACT IV.

EARLY RISING THE WAY TO EMINENCE.

THIS morning, like the spirit of a youth
That means to be of note, begins betimes.

ANTONY TO CLEOPATRA, AT HIS RETURN WITH VICTORY.
O, thou day o' the world,

Chain mine arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all, Through proof of harness to my heart, and there Ride on the pants triumphing.

A MASTER TAKING LEAVE OF HIS SERVANTS.

Tend me to-night;

May be, it is the period of your duty:
Haply, you shall not see me more; or if,
A mangled shadow: perchance, to-morrow
You'll serve another master. I look on you,
As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends,

* Close up.
§ Perhaps.

† Ostrich.

Armour of proof.

Ꭲ

I turn you not away; but, like a master
Married to your good service, stay till death:
Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more,
And the gods yield you for't!

*

LOATHED life.

O, sovereign mistress of true melancholy, The poisonous damp of night disponge† upon me; That life, a very rebel to my will,

May hang no longer on me.

ANTONY'S DESPONDENCY.

O, sun, thy uprise shall I see no more:
Fortune and Antony part here; even here

Do we shake hands.-All come to this?--The hearts
That spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gave
Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets
On blossoming Cæsar; and this pine is bark'd,
That overtopp'd them all.

DEPARTING GREATNESS.

The soul and body rive‡ not more in parting,
Than greatness going off.

ANTONY'S REFLECTIONS ON HIS FADED GLORY.
Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragonish:
A vapour, sometime, like a bear, or lion,
A tower'd citadel, a pendant rock,

A forked mountain, or blue promontory

With trees upon't, that nod unto the world, [signs; And mock our eyes with air: Thou hast seen these They are black vesper's pageants.

Eros.

Ay, my lord.

Ant. That, which is now a horse, even with a thought,

The rack § dislimns; and makes it indistinct,

As water is in water.

* Reward.

+ Discharge, as a sponge when squeezed discharges the moisture it had imbibed.

Split.

§ The fleeting clouds.

Eros.

It does, my lord. Ant. My good knave*, Eros, now thy captain is Even such a body: here I am Antony;

Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave.
I made these wars for Egypt; and the queen,-
Whose heart, I thought I had, for she had mine;
Which, whilst it was mine, had annex't unto't
A million more, now lost,-she, Eros, has

Pack'd cards with Cæsar, and false play'd my glory
Unto an enemy's triumph.-

Nay, weep not, gentle Eros; there is left us
Ourselves to end ourselves.

DESCRIPTION OF CLEOPATRA'S SUPPOSed death.

Death of one person can be paid but once: And that she has discharg'd: What thou would'st do, Is done unto thy hand; the last she spake Was Antony! most noble Antony!

Then in the midst a tearing groan did break

The name of Antony; it was divided

Between her heart and lips: she render'd life,
Thy name so buried in her.

CLEOPATRA'S REFLECTIONS ON THE DEATH OF ANTONY.

It were for me

To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods;
To tell them, that this world did equal theirs,
Till they had stol'n our jewel. All's but naught;
Patience is sottish; and impatience does
Become a dog that's mad: Then is it sin,
To rush into the secret house of death,

Ere death dare come to us?-How do you, women?
What, what? good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian?
My noble girls!—Ah, women, women! look,

Our lamp is spent, it's out:-Good sirs, take heart:— We'll bury him: and then, what's brave, what's noble, Let's do it after the high Roman fashion,

And make death proud to take us. Come, away: This case of that huge spirit now is cold.

* Servant.

ACT V.

DEATH.

My desolation does begin to make
A better life: 'Tis paltry to be Cæsar :
Not being fortune, he's but fortune's knave*,
A minister of her will: And it is great
To do that thing that ends all other deeds;
Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change;
Which sleeps, and never palates more the dung,
The beggar's nurse and Cæsar's.

CLEOPATRA'S DREAM, AND DESCRIPTION OF ANTONY. Cleo. I dream'd, there was an emperor Antony ;O, such another sleep, that I might see

But such another man!

If it might please you,—

Dol. Cleo. His face was as the heavens; and therein stuck A sun, and moon; which kept their course, and lighted The little O, the earth.

Dol.

Most sovereign creature,Cleo. His legs bestrid the ocean: his rear'd arm Crested the world: his voice was propertied As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends; But when he meant to quailt and shake the orb, He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas, That grew the more by reaping: His delights Were dolphin-like; they show'd his back above The element they liv'd in: In his livery

Walk'd crowns, and crownets; realms and islands were As plates dropp'd from his pocket.

FIRM RESOLUTION.

How poor an instrument
May do a noble deed! he brings me liberty.
My resolution's plac'd, and I have nothing
Of woman in me: Now from head to foot
I am marble-constant: now the fleetings moon
No planet is of mine.

* Servant. ↑ Crush. + Silver money. § Inconstant.

Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me: Now no more

The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip:-
Yare, yare, good Iras; quick.-Methinks, I hear
Antony call; I see him rouse himself

To praise my noble act; I hear him mock
The luck of Cæsar, which the gods give men
To excuse their after-wrath: Husband, I come:
Now to that name my courage prove my title!
I am fire, and air; my other elements.

I give to baser life.-So, have you done?
Come, then, and take the last warmth of my lips.
Farewell, kind Charmian;-Iras, long farewell.
Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall?
If thou and nature can so gently part,
The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch,
Which hurts, and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still?
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world
It is not worth leave-taking.

Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may say, The gods themselves do weep!

Cleo.

* Make haste.

This proves me base: